Wednesday, November 30, 2016

You couldn't make it up.

You couldn't make it up.
Half past two this morning and Ghengis Khan charges out of the bedroom and goes downstairs like somebody not right.  I can hear him not quite growling but sounding exceeding menacing.
"Shit," said I to me. "Has he got a bungler!"
I jumped out of bed and hurried down the dancers without even bothering to put my dressing gown on. I could do with a bungler, he can have my dressing gown for a start. I put the kitchen light on and he is in the corner with his victim, a tiny, little mouse!
Of course, the idiot can't reach it in the corner but he seems to be doing his best to lick it to death and growling. Poor little bugger is terrified, the mouse, not the dog.
So I walk over and smack the dog's arse.
"Leave him alone, you bully," I tell him.
He looks at me as if to say, "I am only doing my job."
Huh! Pity he can't do his job when Wendy is here, she needs growling at.
"Go on," I tell him. "Fuck off to bed."
The mouse scuttles off, a bit like our Wendy.
Back upstairs and getting back into bed to rub my cold arse on her she says in the dark, "What was all the racket about?"
"You awake, are you?" I snuggled.
"Aaaargh! You are freezing!"
"It's winter," I tell her, "Stop whingeing."
"Bastard," she informs me.
"Ha!" I snigger. "The best bit about being a bastard is I don't have to buy anybody a present on Father's Day."
"Piss off and go to sleep," I am instructed.
No, you couldn't make it up.

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